


Of Men and Wives

by writingwhatneedswriting



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Arranged Marriage, Child Loss, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Firsts, Fluff, Historical, Historical Accuracy, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Loss of Virginity, Miscarriage, Not Beta Read, Not beta'd we die like men, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Sexism, Relationship(s), Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:29:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29684682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingwhatneedswriting/pseuds/writingwhatneedswriting
Summary: By the time Viola was married, her husband had left for war. She spent only a single day and night with her husband, and woke to find him gone. After a tragic year of loss and war, her husband returns to her, to take her to his home and treat her as his wife. But what will happen when the country's heirarchy is upended entirely, all because of her?Warning, this book contains content not suitable for those under the age of 18, including graphic violence, death, misogyny and sexual violence. If you are uncomfortable with any of these things, I encourage you not to read this for your own mental wellbeing.Title subject to change
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Viola Wadham/Samuel Cavell
Kudos: 17





	1. A Very Good Place to Start

The streets had been bustling with excitement for weeks. Bakers selling bread and cakes and other confectionery, florists selling roses to mark the occasion and seamstresses offering their favour to the passing men and women, bidding them to come get the proper dress for an upcoming, important and ostentatious day. The day had come at last, and whilst the streets were still filled, they scarcely moved, more in awe and excitement, waiting to see. Waiting to see their lord's young daughter dressed to be married.

Her purity had been checked, much to her dismay. For a moment she cursed the thought of being born a woman. After all, had she been a lord she'd have been hardly been questioned on such a thing. Half of her thought she might be congratulated for such a thing, and yet since she was a woman she was expected to be chaste, and thankfully they deemed her pure, though she wasn't sure that was much to be thanked.

Even as Viola gazed down at the people in the streets, she could hardly believe that they were there for her. She pressed a hand to the glass a moment, only to be scolded by her nanny, who was fastening the lace of her dress. Her nanny was not used to this new fashion, better at fastening the straight laces as opposed to the doubled, winding laces of the lasted fashions, but she was doing her best.

Soon enough, it was done, and the pretty blue gown was tightly bound to her, with elbow length sleeves and a damask pattern on the fabric, done in gold. On her head was a jewelled chaplet, a piece of fabric placed atop her head to hide her hair, weighed in place with golden flowers, whilst her hair was plaited and fastened beneath it to prevent it poking out, though a few small strands were out at the front, purely to frame her face.

"You needn't look so solemn, my lady." Her nanny smiled, neatening up the girl. "You're to be a wife. A bride. What else have I been preparing you for all these years?" There was mirth in her tone, but Viola couldn't find it in herself to smile.

"I... I suppose so. I can just hardly think of it... I... I have never even seen him before."  
"You don't need to see him, my lady. He is a knight, and a lord. He will treat you kindly, I am sure." Her nanny tutted. "truly, those books you read are fruitless... All about princesses and knights and marrying for love... love comes after one is wedded, my lady."

Viola sighed, but gave up on her argument and looked to herself in the mirror, finding that same girl looking back at her. That same girl, with the snub nose, brown eyes and pouting, sad lips. How could any man find such a face to be a pleasing bride?

She shook her head and sighed, looking instead to her Nanny. "Am... am I ready?"  
Her nanny smiled coyly. "I do not know, my lady. Are you?"


	2. A Ceremony to Be Proud of

There was no room inside the chapel for the wedding. Blumenschloss didn’t have the large chapel necessary to house the lord, his retinue and all of the residents of the town as well. As such, the dais was set up in the plaza, near the entrance to the castle, with the large ouroboros symbol propped up, ready for the two to stand beneath.

Her future lord husband was already stood there, waiting. He looked angry, or perhaps anxious. From such a distance, Viola couldn’t tell, but as she peered out of the entrance hall, down the stairs and to the dais, she found herself shivering and scared. He was tall and broad, and armed! He had a sword on his hip, even at his own wedding, not to mention the many knights who were stood at the base of the dais, ready to guard them should anything happen.  
“Viola... you cannot dawdle here forever.” the whispering voice was a kind one, and familiar. Viola’s closest lady-in-waiting, the lady Maria, daughter of her father’s best knight, and her closest friend. “You’ll have to wed him eventually. Better to go out whilst it’s warm.”  
“I know.” Viola sighed. She inhaled a moment, shutting her eyes and steeling herself, before exhaling, wearing the guise of the strong young lady Wadham.

She straightened her back, lifted her chin and headed out, stepping into the light. She began to head down the stairs, flanked by Maria and her Nanny, trying to keep her eyes ahead, but finding herself failing. Her father was stood amongst the commoners, though still at the front and closer to the dais, with her brother Oleander right beside, both of whom were dressed to their best, and yet that cruel look never left Oleander’s face.  
Still, her eyes lingered longest on her husband. He was tall, and at least a couple of years older than her. He was handsome too, with pretty green eyes and a strong jaw. She fought down the flushing of her cheeks, and soon she was stood just steps away from him, stood before the priest and the statue, gazing up at his face. Even this close, his expression was unreadable. Angry, frustrated, confused; for all she knew he could simply be unwell. Whatever it was, he didn’t seem happy to be marrying her.

From what she’d heard, Lord Cavell was a new lord, the first of his family line to be a lord, thanks to his military strength in overthrowing the previous lord and taking his land. He’d even made his own coat of arms and family code. 'Nobility above all' were his words, and his shield was deep red, with a centre, vertical stripe in a dark blue, with a small horse on it, rearing. By all accounts, his shield denoted strength and loyalty and nobility. She had to hope it represented him.  
She heard the priest talking, but the words seemed faded, though she knew that these words for the crowd, asking if there were any who saw any reason not to let the two wed. Nobody stood to deny. Viola blushed as she heard his voice stop, and she knew it was time for the vows. The man opposite her sighed, reached to take her hands and locked eyes with her. “I, Samuel Cavell, take thee, Viola Wadham, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.” His voice was smooth, and yet somehow dark, as though any second it could devolve into inhuman grunting.

She soon realised it was her turn, and she cleared her throat, finding her lower lip quivering. No going back now! “I... I, Viola Wadham, take thee, Samuel Cavell, to be my wedded h-husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, f-for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I give...” She paused a moment, trying to school her frightened features. “a-and thereto, I give thee my troth.”

With her words said, her husband turned to his best man, a man in full armour, all but his helm, and he gestured with his head. The knight stepped forwards and handed him a pretty band, what seemed to be made of gold. Samuel took it, and after lifting her left hand gently into his right, he slipped the ring onto her finger. “With this ring, I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: In the name of God, and the sanctity of these lands.”

The priest stepped forwards then, taking both of their hands before joining them together. “I now pronounce thee man and wife... you may now kiss the bride.” He nodded to Samuel, whose grasp on her hands tightened, and he leaned in.

Viola was shocked at his face growing so suddenly close, and she blushed, but she was in no place to stop, and as his lips collided with hers, she didn’t push him away. And yet, this first kiss was nothing like she’d heard. The first kiss on one’s wedding day was meant to be magical, and yet this felt almost like nothing. It felt as intimate as the brushing of elbows between strangers, and yet it was this act that bound her to her groom. No longer was she Viola Wadham. Now, she was Viola Cavell, married to this handsome stranger.

Speaking of, her husband soon pulled back and held her hand in his own, turning towards the many other guests. “I must apologise to you all, for stealing such a beautiful lady from you. I beg your forgiveness, but I know my people back home will be glad to serve such a lady. You need not fear, she will be well-treated.” He announced with a subtle look of mirth on his face before looking at her.

He didn’t say a word, but after a moment of silence, he released her hand, only to sweep her into his arms, looping one arm beneath her knees and the other under her back, holding her bundled in his arms like a princess, and for the first time in this whole ceremony, he smiled.  
“Let us go and celebrate, Viola.”

He looked to his best man and nodded, as he then rallied the soldiers to follow them back into the castle, chased by raucous cheers from the people, and soon followed by her father and brother, as well as some other local bannermen who had come to attend. All that was left here was the feast. Well, that and the consummation. Her cheeks flushed at the thought, trying to avoid her husband’s gaze as he carried her to the grand hall.


	3. Drowning in Food, Wine and Gifts

The celebration raged for hours. Men and women danced and dined and drank, gossiping and chattering eagerly, even after the sun had set, and even longer!

Throughout the celebration, various guests had come to bid the married couple the best wishes, and bestow upon them a gift. Of course, most of the gifts had already been exchanged. Her father had given Samuel his dowry for her, and Samuel had a home for her waiting for them. They'd also gifted a chalice to the priest for marrying them, and yet it was the sharing of gifts from guests which shocked her most. 

Whilst the planned gifts for guests were goblets and kerchiefs and other small trinkets, the guests offered coronets and brooches and fur cloaks for the married couple. Thankfully, Samuel knew how to graciously thank them, as Viola sat stunned. 

They had much to take with them to Samuel’s home, and yet something prodded in the back of her mind that for some reason, she and her groom wouldn’t be returning to his home any time yet. 

It was almost 9 by the time she had noticed her husband’s state. He was full of food, and full of ale, as his hand reached over his own chair’s arm to gently rest upon her clothed thigh, the large, coarse, warm hand of a man, now pressed against the dress that so symbolised purity. 

“My lord,” she began, only to be silenced by his smirk.    
“You do know my name, Viola.” He said, slurring his words a little, squeezing his hand on her thigh. Her eyes widened a fraction and she gulped.    
“Samuel,” She said, which seemed to placate him. “Perhaps.. Perhaps we should slow down.”   
“Why? We are already wed...” he chuckled, reaching to finish his ale, before turning in his chair to face her. “You know, I have some gifts for you too, though they’re meant to be in compensation for your virginity, from what I hear from other lords.”

She flushed red at that, horrified that he said such a thing so loudly. “Samuel, you really shouldn’t say such things!”   
“Why not? You’re my wife, it’s our wedding night, what else do they expect us to do? I’m off to war in the morning, and I plan to have a gift to keep me warm on cold nights surrounded only by other men.”

_ War?  _ She pondered. She’d heard nothing about a war, and yet at his announcement, her father looked away, rather annoyed.  _ Had they been hiding this from me? _

He was leaning in now, a look in his eyes like a playful child, and in an instant his hand was gone from her thigh, before lifting her into his arms again. “My wife is excited to head  abed with me! Wish us luck!” he chuckled, and whilst his men cheered, the rest of the noble guests were shocked. 

“W-wait! I never said that!” Viola protested, but her husband didn’t put her down, as  he carried her out of the hall. 

“Guide me to your chambers, fair lady!” he grinned, and with a meek gesture from his bride, the man carried her through the corridors and into her chambers, before dropping her hastily on the bed. 

“Are you a virgin, my lady?” He asked, as he hastily began removing his boots and shutting the door behind himself. 

Viola sat up straight as an arrow, mortified. “Y-yes! Please, Samuel, slow down! You are going so fast, I-!”   
“I’m not doing anything. Not yet. Tell me, Viola. Do you not want to consummate this marriage with me?” He asked, perching himself beside her. “If not, I can wait... or we can undo this... I do not wish to, though.” he smiled. His hand gently reached to cup her cheek. “You are a beautiful woman, if not for how gloomy you look all the time...” he trailed his hand down a little, before rubbing his thumb over her lips. “I could make you smile...”

“Samuel...” she whispered, shocked at how vulnerable he seemed right now. If she didn’t know better, she’d have thought that he loved her. His eyes were like a small puppy, waiting to be kicked, and she bit her lip. 

“ i don’t want to annul or undo our marriage, but I... I’m worried, you’re going so fast and... and the way you spoke in the hall... made me sound like a harlot...”

“A harlot?” he pulled a face. “For wanting to have sex with your husband? Sounds more like a dutiful wife to me.”   
“But we don’t... talk about such things openly... they’re private matters.”   
“I see...” he hummed in reply then. “I suppose I’ll have to make it up to you, then.” 

He leaned in once more, stealing her lips with his own, to which Viola reciprocated. This was her duty as a wife, after all. She had to hope that it wouldn’t be as frightful as some of the rumours said.


	4. A Wife's Duty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [A/N: Warning! Smut ahead, so 18+ only please!]

It was rather shocking how quickly he managed to peel her clothes from her. The laces that her nanny had toiled over that morning were soon unlaced and pulled loose by her husband’s hasty hands, as his lips hungrily searched her own. In moments she was left in just her shift, her body shivering with the memories of his touch, as his rough hands pulled the fabric from her  to hastily toss it aside.

She had to wonder if he had much experience, and yet in the panicked state he was in, he seemed as eager to get  abed with her as a man-maiden might be, to finally pass that rite of passage that made boy into man. 

He soon pulled off his tunic, dropping it on the floor, before pulling the fur covers out from beneath her, ready to drape the warmth over them both for when he had started, and yet as he unlaced his codpiece and began to crawl on top of her, Viola felt tears pricking in her eyes.

He stopped, looking down at her, and his expression solemn. “What’s the matter?” he whispered, pulling back a little. 

“You... you said you were going to war.” Viola sniffled, reaching to wipe off her tears. “You’re going to marry me and... and bed me, then leave...”   
“I’m also going to come back.” He smiled then, cupping her cheek. “I’m here to marry you and make you mine, so that I have a reason to return alive from this war...” he sighed, kissing her forehead, then the bridge of her nose, before bypassing her lips to kiss her chin, her neck, the crevice between her breasts, until soon his head was pressed against the silk separating him from the bare flesh of her flat stomach. “A wife... _and a son_.” he grinned, pressing his nose into her belly a little, as she arched her back a little, as though in defence. 

He smirked and pulled back then, resting on his knees as he looked down at her. “ So. .. are you willing?” He asked. Viola sucked in her lower lip then, pondering it. She could get with child, but it was her duty as  as a wife. Hadn’t she dreamed of such a thing? A husband, a son and a home for them all to live together? All those days daydreaming of what her children could look like would be wasted elsewise. Besides, Samuel was handsome –if a bit cheeky- and he seemed kind enough to her. Could she truly expect a better husband for herself?

She let out a sigh, and nodded. “I... I’m willing.”

He smiled again, leaning down to press his lips to hers as he finally slipped off his britches and pulled off her shift, leaving both of their bodies fully revealed, though only for a second, as Samuel soon blew out the candle  and pulled the covers over his back to keep him warm, as his knees moved to spread her legs and pin them apart, with his swollen groin soon moving between them.

One hand reached between her legs, as warm fingers graced that icy, untouched place, and she let out a gasp. “Ah!” she almost cried out in shock, reaching to place her hands on his chest. He silenced her with a kiss, and began his ministrations, letting out a few quiet murmurs of how he was unused to preparing a woman, rather more used to simply getting straight to it. She flushed and turned her head away, biting gently on her knuckle to stifle her quiet moans from his touch, knowing that his impatience was not a sign of bright-eyed eagerness, but rather a dark, lusting hunger.

And yet, even as she grew more prepared, her womanhood slickening to his touch and ready for him, he did not stop his touch. He had even stopped complaining, simply watching her face. Viola was red in the face, her lips parted and letting out quiet noises which escaped without her permission, and she could only imagine what he was thinking. He continued for a while, until her moans grew louder than a whimper, and he stopped, letting out a quiet grunt as he replaced his fingers with his manhood, unsheathed and at the ready. 

He locked eyes with her, and Viola felt those deep, green pools like moss burning into her very soul, and as her hand reached to cup his cheek, she felt him plunge inside of her with no hesitation. Her hand clenched, and her nails caught his cheek, scratching him, but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, the hunger in his eyes only deepened, and after planting his right arm at the side of her head, his left reached to grope at her thigh, keeping it at his side and holding it in place as he thrusted himself inside of her, seemingly unable to control the rough bucking of his hips as his groin clapped against her skin.

“Viola...” he moaned her name, the word escaping his mouth with such ease –and so  lewdly!- it was as if he had practiced it. She felt him inside of her. There was certainly a pain, and a soreness from his roughness, but there was something deeper in it, something that tied a thick knot inside of her stomach. Was this sensation burning hot inside of her  _ pleasure? _ She didn’t know, but as her husband rutted inside of her like a mad dog, incensed by a juicy steak, her arms wrapped around him, and she moaned her pleasure aloud to the world for what felt like the rest of the night, simply enjoying the sensation that a husband’s love could bring. 


	5. A Cold Morning, and a Terrible Tragedy

It was the morning sun that woke her, poking through the curtains to land straight on her eye. Her lashes fluttered and she opened her eyes, only to recoil a little, pulling the covers up and over her breasts, before rolling over to greet her husband, only to find his side of the bed –which he had claimed only the night before- was empty. 

As though to check he was not invisible, she reached over, palming at the feather mattress. It was cold. He’d been gone a while, it seemed.

She sighed. He’d left early, and by now he was likely on the road to the war. She’d been a wife for a single day, and now she was here, alone. 

She sat up straight, only to find her room filled with gifts. She reached down to the floor to pick up her discarded shift, which she pulled on over her head and approached that pile. Clothes, jewels, books and even a special ward charm, carved in the shape of a knight astride a horse. Her eyes widened a fraction. They were known as a Husband’s Boon, and when purchased they came along with a companion charm- a Wife’s Boon, likely carved in the shape of a maiden in a dress, or sometimes more lewd, and those who were rich were able to get the countenance of themself and their wife carved in detail. The Husband’s Boon offered security and protection of a wife (given when the husband is away and unable to care for her himself), whilst a Wife’s Boon would give a husband warmth and patience whilst he was away from her. Some said that if you slept holding your boon, your spouse would feel your arms around you, though that was just an old wives’ tale.   
She blushed then and after lifting the boon closer to her face, holding the small item in the palm of her hand, she recognised the face. Samuel’s. These charms would have been so expensive, crafted to order by a master craftsman. Her cheeks blushed at the sight of it, and she swiftly put it in its rightful place- at her bedside; to guard her when she rested. 

She then caught a glimpse of something else among the gifts. A book, but it looked different from all the others. There was no name on the cover. There didn’t seem to be any information about it either. She furrowed her brow and picked it up, before opening the first page.   
The first page was unlined, but there was still writing there in a rushed, wild script, which she was shocked she could even read. 

_My sweet wife,_   
_If you are reading this, I am gone. I am sorry, I would have loved to watch you wake and hold you a while longer, but war waits for no man. So instead, I give you this diary. Write down all you do, all you think, every time you have missed me. Then when I return, I can read it, and you can read mine, and we can feel as though we were never apart. I cannot wait to see you._   
_Samuel Cavell, your husband._

She blinked a few times, and sure enough, as she turned the pages, they were blank, ready for her to write in. She blushed and smiled then, setting it down on her desk, before rifling through the rest. 

An hour or so into checking, her maids came in and found her, saddened that she was alone, but they helped her sort her new dresses and jewels –even dressing her for the day in one that was a beautiful shade of green, patterned with gold, as some of his gifted emeralds hung about her neck.   
The rest was sorted and tucked away, and her books were placed upon her shelf, with the others. She even had a duplicate. She bit her lip. How does he know me so well as to even know what books I like? She pondered, before shaking the thought away. As one of the maids went to pick up the book from her desk, she shook her head. That would stay there, so she could fill it out for him.   
Despite it all, despite how little she seemed to know him, he knew her quite well. Something about it made her heart flutter for this handsome stranger who was her husband, and she let out a sigh. Still, she had to go about her day as usual now, serving her duties as the daughter of Lord Wadham, and she headed down to break her fast with him. 

In the passing days, she would take to filling in her diary at night, writing it as one might a letter, starting each entry with “Dear Samuel,” and ending them with “Your wife, Viola.” She filled in the more pressing details of her days, the hearty thanks for all of her many gifts, and an expression of joy at how well they fit, as she had worn them every day, and how each night she would look to his Boon before she went to sleep.   
She told him of how she and her brother would travel to the flower farms to check on them at their father’s behest, how she would continue her studies and Oleander would continue his, often teasing her quite cruelly by using his magick prowess to make her trip or lift her skirts too high, even skipping pages in her books when she left to fetch them refreshments to confuse her, though he didn’t need magick for that.   
Most of all, she told him of her excitement to be his lady. A month after his departure, she discovered that she was pregnant from their night together, just as he had wished, but it wouldn’t be long until tragedy came. 

It was near the start of fall, as she and Samuel had been married in the first days of summer and now her body was starting to show the curves of pregnancy.   
She was in the study with her brother, having ceased her dance lessons for the sake of the babe, as she instead took more to her language studies, learning the tongue of their close neighbour land, Etraria. The Etrarian tongue was difficult, with a harsh accent and sounds that emerged far deeper in the throat than Viola was used to, but she would read up on it in the study, then recite her practice before bed, to not disturb her brother. And yet as she sat there, reading about their many honorifics, a soldier practically kicked open the door. “Lord Alder,” he began. “He’s ridden out to go and see Lord Bulwark. He didn’t take a retinue!”   
In the past few months, her steadfast, clever father had withered away into nothing but a scared, skittish and angry old man, unwilling to take the advice of those around him. Most of the duties had fallen to the siblings to take care of, but the travel to his bannerman’s house would take him through the forest, on the cusp of fall, as the icy winds blew cold. 

Her eyes widened and she stood, but before she could speak, Oleander cut in.   
“Saddle up 30 men, and ready my horse for me... Viola, stay inside and take care of the castle. I’ll return with father before dark.” He demanded, before slamming his book shut and standing. 

“You can’t go without me!” Viola protested, but Oleander took a firm grasp of her chin.   
“I can, and will. You were taught to run a household, weren’t you? You’re not safe out there, especially with child.” he sighed, loosening his grip and leaning in to kiss her forehead. “Stay. Please. I will return as soon as I can.”

Viola had no room to protest, and so she simply nodded, and as her brother pulled on a cloak and readied to mount up, Viola took the reins of the house, readying the physicians to check her father upon his return, as she had the maids set up his room for him, where he could stay and be kept until his condition lessened.   
By the time Oleander and his 30 knights came back, it was dark, and Viola was slumped in the chair at her father’s bedside, half-asleep, with a hand on her belly, eagerly awaiting her father’s return. Yet he didn’t return. 

When Oleander stepped across the threshold, dripping wet and cold, he brought with him only a bundled up sheet. Or at least, that was how it appeared.   
Oleander shrugged off his cloak, leaving it on the floor as he approached and knelt in front of his sister. Viola’s eyes snapped awake, and she swiftly grasped his hands, turning her head to the bed, in the hopes of seeing her father laid there, but instead the bed was neat.

Viola didn’t have to ask or say a word, as she looked to her brother, whose usually awful expression now twisted into one of solace. “I’m sorry, Viola,” he said. “He fell from his horse, riding into the forest... by the time we found him he was... a corpse.” 

He took her hands and brought them to his lips, as though to comfort her, but Viola’s face only paled more. “No... no, no, that’s not true! That can’t be true!” she sobbed, as Oleander leaned to wrap his arms around her. Anguish left her body in howls and screams and sobs, but it was soon replaced with pain, right at her stomach. By the time she noticed what had happened, it was too late, and the blood was pooling between her thighs. 4 months pregnant, and she had lost her father, then her baby. 

Despite Oleander lifting her into his arms and carrying her to the physician, there was nothing that could be done. The baby in her arms was small and skinny and still. Stiller than anything that had ever been alive. Viola cradled the bloody babe in her arms and she screamed. A boy. She’d have had a boy if he had lived.   
The physician took her child, cleaned him off, and prepared him for burial. He’d be buried at the chapel in Blumenschloss, and when asked what the baby was to be named, Viola choked on her words. “Alder.” she had said. “Alder Cavell.”

Of course, she wrote it all in that diary, as she was bedbound with sickness for the next month, and had all day to write about their loss, and how much she apologised. The one duty of a wife was to give her husband an heir, and she had failed him. 

In the next few months, her writing only grew more, and even as she returned to her duties, now taking on the household as her duty, she would write to him about all she was learning, promising that she would be a good wife to him, as though to make up for their loss. She had to wonder if he was writing to her too. At night, she slept with her arms around his boon, as though hoping he would do the same for hers, and give her the warmth and support she so desperately needed from him, but not once did she ever feel ghostly arms around her. Still, each and every night she clutched his boon to her chest, in desperate search of comfort. 


	6. The Return

A year had passed since her marriage, and despite her best attempts to hold out hope, she found herself wallowing in her sadness. How would anyone even know to tell her if her husband had died? Their wedding was a mere day before he left. Perhaps he had died and nobody knew. 

But she’d soon heard word that all the men were to return. The war against the North was won, and the men would, at last, be heading back to their wives. Thankfully, Blumenschloss was close to the border of the north, and she would know very soon as to whether her husband was coming home to her. 

And the next morning, she would have her answer, as she was woken by the sounds of trumpeting from the gates of Blumenschloss city. Her eyes widened, and she tossed aside her covers to race to her window. Sure enough, there was her husband’s banner, and her husband at the front, riding up to see her. 

She wasted no time in dressing herself, in the green and gold dress, with the open-front skirt, puffed shoulder sleeves with long trails on them, and her white, long-sleeved smock worn beneath it. She then pulled on a necklace of emeralds and tied back her golden hair, fastening it in place with just a coronet, letting most of it hang down her back in bold celebration, before racing downstairs, bypassing her maids who were shocked to find she could dress herself. 

She arrived at the entrance to the castle swiftly, and as she stood upon the stairs, her husband had ridden close, his helmet resting on the saddle of his horse as he looked to her. The same dark locks and pretty brown eyes, but there was a stony look to him now. Something cold and gruff, as though he was a different man.   
He looked to her then, holding his head high, before dismounting his steed and walking to her.

“Tell me. Why, wife, are you not at home?” Not a greeting, or a kiss, or a smile. Only an irritated question.  
“I... I don’t understand what you mean...”   
“You wear my ring, you wear the dress and the jewels that I, your husband, bought you, yet you remain here at home, with your father like a spinster. Or a bachelorette.” his eyes narrowed, and his hand grabbed at her wrist. She gasped a little, feeling his tight grip.   
“M-my father...” she whispered, growing teary. “Samuel, you’re hurting me.”

“Have you found one?” He asked. Her eyes widened.   
“Have I found one what?”   
“Have you found yourself a lover whilst I’ve been off at war, fighting for you?” His grip tightened, and Viola was mortified.   
“No!” she protested, trying to pull her arm from his gauntleted grip. “Samuel, please, you’re hurting me... we can discuss this inside...”   
Her husband’s eyes seemed darker now, and he finally released her. “Fine then, guide me inside, and you can explain to me why you’re here, and why you’re the only one to come greet me.” 

She led him inside, heading to the salon where she started to make him tea, and she sighed. “I... I will make you tea, then bring you the book... you can read all about it.” she turned her head away.   
“I’ll read it another time, I want to hear it from your lips.”

He was sat down, without any sense of decorum, with his legs spread wide, and his back slumped against the back of the pew. She could hardly believe that this was the man who had bought her romance books and pretty dresses. 

“I... I don’t know where your home is. I don’t know how to get there, and... and a few weeks after our marriage, my father got sick... I couldn’t simply leave him here.” She sighed.   
“So you left my people without a lady? You’re lady Cavell, now. Your duty is to them.”   
“My duty is with my father who was sick... I doubt your people would want a lady who abandons a sick old man.” Viola replied, harshly.   
“Then where is he? Your father, I mean. I trust he has gotten better in your care?” He seemed to lighten up then, glad for the bit of fight in her, but Viola only turned her head away. “He’s dead.”   
Samuel paled, before standing up. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean to make you sad. What of your brother, is he well? I trust it is not contagious?”   
“My brother... he is fine. He has taken over as lord but... as yet he doesn’t have a wife so... as he tries to find a suitable match, I’ve been taking care of the house for him. He runs the lands and I have been-”   
“You’ve been acting as his _wife_.” His tone darkened again, and his hand grabbed at hers, stealing her left hand and lifting it so she could see. “This wedding band is _mine_. You are _my_ wife! I have let you stay here when I could easily have sent my knights to escort you home... and you have stayed here to play wife to your brother? Do you share his bed as well?”

Viola was horrified. How could he have changed so much in just a year? She sneered at him, and after reeling back her hand, she slapped him across the face as harshly as she could, leaving a great red mark on him.   
He released her, and staggered back, a hand to his cheek. Before he had the chance to say anything or strike her back, Oleander entered, dressed for his position as Lord Wadham, as he saw the redness on his cheek and his sister’s wrist, he decided to intervene. 

“Lord Cavell,” He greeted. “A pleasure to see you again. My apologies for my late arrival... I was at my father’s grave.” his voice was sour. “My gravest condolences, by the way,” he said, bowing his head.   
Samuel turned to him and narrowed his eyes. “Condolences? For what?”

Viola sighed. No time like the present to tell him. She hung her head then. “Your son,” she said, her eyes cast down to the floor. “I... I miscarried. I’m sorry...” her lip quivered, and her face was buried in her hands then, as she covered herself up. “After... after my father died I... I was so hurt and upset and I cried for... for so long and... the baby didn’t make it...”   
She didn’t look at her husband, but the air in the room changed. “What did you name him?” He asked, resting a hand on her shoulder.   
“Alder... Alder Cavell...” she sobbed quietly and his arms wrapped around her.   
“Alder... A good name for a son.” He said, reaching to stroke her hair, to toy with it gently.   
“Do you wish to visit his grave? Forgive us, we didn’t know where you live so... sending the babe to be buried there was logistically impossible.” Oleander sighed. “We have him buried in the churchyard.”   
“I will go and find him. I... I must know. Was he born dead or... or did he die?” Samuel’s voice seemed to quiver as he asked, using his finger to gently lift his wife’s chin, but she quickly pulled away, frightened he might hurt her again. He pulled back, relenting. 

“He was born dead. He was only four months... he... he wasn’t going to survive... I had to birth a child who had never –and would never- take a breath.” Viola pulled back from him then. “I... I will show you his grave... Oleander, could you please help my husband and his men settle?”   
“Don’t.” Samuel cut in. “We’re leaving for our own home, as soon as you are packed to go.” He said, coldly. “You cannot shirk your duties more. Apologies, my lady, but you are my wife... I will ensure that you are happy in your duties with me. I will keep you in luxury if you are worried about that.” his voice seemed sour, almost angry, and he sighed.   
“I am not haughty, Samuel... if you think I’m to be your ditzy wife, desiring jewels and nothing more, you have married the wrong woman.” She sighed and turned on her heel to head to the chapel. She had been so excited to be with him again, to grieve over their loss together, but she was shocked to find this awful terrible man was her husband, as opposed to the young, handsome man who had so gently caressed her on their wedding night.

Soon, they were in the chapel gardens, stood in the wild winds before a small, ornate grave, marked by a gravestone with the ouroboros carved into the top right. Alder Cavell, Noble above all, gone too soon. The Cavell crest was also carved into the stone.

Viola watched, as Samuel’s face twisted. “Our son...” he knelt down a moment, down onto one knee before the grave, and he sighed, gently touching the dirt at its base. “I’ll have his name carved into the walls of Ulmhaus...” he sighed and stood up then, looking to Viola. “Are you sad for him?”   
“Of course I am.” She furrowed her brow. “I had to birth him dead, Samuel. He was my son as much as he was yours...”   
Samuel leaned in, pressing his lips to her head. “I’m sorry,” he said then, resting a hand on her head. “We can have another...”

Viola pushed him away. “I... I will go and pack my things,” she said, turning her head away. “and say goodbye to my brother.” She offered him a curtsey, but her eyes were laced with anger, as she headed up to her chambers, to have her maids and Maria help her pack. She soured, knowing she’d need to say farewell to her dearest and oldest friend to travel with this man she hardly knew. 


	7. Fond Farewells

The many dresses, jewels, books and trinkets of the lady would fit well into the many boxes and trunks, ready to be transported to her new home. Soon enough, her room was practically bare, with only the furniture remaining. The furniture, and her boon, which was still propped up on her bedside. 

She sighed, reaching to take it in hand, running the pad of her thumb over the sharpness of her horse’s features, as she then clasped it in hand, ready to return it to her husband, as she was meant to. 

And yet, as she opened the door to leave –as all the valets and maids carried her boxes- she found herself facing Maria, whose face was a picture of sadness. “You’re leaving...” She said, quietly. “You’re going to leave and go to Ulmhaus, with your husband... aren’t you?”   
“I have to go, Maria... I’m a married woman, it’s my... it’s my duty to live with him and run his house.” She gulped a little, clasping her friend’s hands. “We have known this was coming... I will write to you, and perhaps one day I can come visit...” 

Maria’s smile was sombre, but she nodded, before wrapping her arms around her friend. “You be safe, now... and write to me when you get there. I want to hear all about Ulmhaus.” She then pulled back and beamed. “Perhaps when we meet again, I too will be married!” She beamed with excitement. 

Maria was always beautiful, with  pretty brown hair, always perfectly tucked beneath her hood or framed by her stylings. Her eyes were blue, like Oleander’s, but whilst Oleander’s were striking and light like  dragon-fire (his own description) Maria’s were deep like the sea. Her eyes were big, but not so large as to be ugly, and her nose was straight and perfect. In truth, Viola was always envious of Maria, but the girl was so  chirpy and likeable, it was tough to find it in her heart to do anything but love her.

“Let me walk you out... Oleander is waiting at the door with Samuel.” Maria looped her arm with her friend, beaming before guiding her down the stairs, trying to keep up her spirits, as Viola clutched the small, wooden knight in hand. 

Eventually, they were in the light of day, as it was almost noon, and Samuel was stood with Oleander, the two sharing tense words which she sadly couldn’t hear. 

When the women arrived, the men silenced and straightened themselves up, before greeting them with a bow. “Are you ready?” Samuel asked. “All of your things are fastened and ready to go... it should only be a few days ride, but if we are slow, it could be a week.” 

“I... I just need to say goodbye to my brother.” she said, hanging her head, before looking to Oleander. “Will you be alright, Olly?”   
“I’ll be fine. I’ll find myself a wife to look after the house... perhaps you can return for my wedding.” he said, before kissing her on the head. “Go safely, Viola.”

Viola nodded, kissed his cheek, and turned to Samuel then, biting down on her lip. Samuel took her hand, bringing it to his lips, but there was no affection in his touch, but he soon noticed something in it. He peeled away her fingers to see his Boon, and he smiled. A real, genuine smile, the first time since their wedding. “You have it... I had thought you’d ignore it.”   
“No, I... I actually kept it at my bedside...” Samuel took it in hand, before pulling out a necklace, with the Wife’s Boon. He then unfastened the boon from the leather thong and handed it to her. It had her features too, as she’d expected, dressed in a thick gown. 

“There. I kept you close to my heart, even in battle.” he smiled. “Come, let's get you in the carriage.”   
“Won’t you be riding with me?” She was shocked at how pained her voice sounded, clutching the small doll close to her chest.

He looked to her, then sighed. “No. I have a horse to ride. You can stay in the carriage, where it’s safe.” He turned his head away then and held the door open. “Get in.” 

Viola hung her head, but obeyed, taking hold of the doorway to hoist herself in before sitting down, watching Samuel as he attached his boon to his necklace, before shutting the door and mounting on his horse. 

Oleander stood with Maria, looking down to her in the carriage, and whilst the two women waved one last farewell, Oleander only darkened, eyes locked with Samuel, who then called for his men to move ahead, and the carriage rolled along the cobblestones and out of her family lands. She had hoped it would go slower, but before she knew it, her brother was gone from her sight, and she sighed.


	8. The Stallion's Caravan

Her home disappeared out of view, shrinking into the many forests until the pretty brickwork of the walls was hidden entirely by the trees. Viola sighed and leaned her head on the wall, gazing where her home was, as though trying to catch one last, greedy glimpse of it.

Soon, her husband slowed, blocking her view and riding alongside the carriage, peering down at her. Viola expectantly opened the window, wondering what he had to say to her. He’d since tucked the Boon under his breastplate, whilst hers still rested in the many reams of skirt that fanned around her. She clutched the doll and sighed. 

“You didn’t answer my question.” He narrowed his eyes then. “Have you been sharing your brother’s bed?”   
Viola’s face twisted in anger. “No. Neither of us is like that... we are not freaks. I would not even think of such a thing! I have remained chaste since our marriage, I can promise you that!”   
“So you have laid alone, all these nights?”   
“Yes,” Viola replied. “Did you?”

She hadn’t meant to say it so pointedly, but Samuel did flinch at the question. His expression wavered from one of indignation, to calm, and he replied with another question. “And if I did, would you be mad?”   
Viola stifled her pride. Of course she would be mad! Her husband had been so angry at the thought of her even helping her brother, and yet now he was insinuating that he had shared another woman’s bed. Another woman’s body! Still, she bit her lip. This was, in truth, the second actual day of their marriage, and she did not want to make a spectacle.

“No, my lord. It is to be expected that... that you would seek comfort in the warmth of another.” She turned her head away from him, in the hopes that it would cease his prying, but instead, he burst into laughter. “What’s so funny?” Viola asked, shocked.   
“Did you practice that answer? ‘Oh no, our marriage vows mean nothing, sleep with as many others as you wish!’ Ha! I’m not a fool, I know what you were thinking...” he leaned down a little to meet her gaze. “And if you’re truly that worried, no. I didn’t seek another’s woman’s warmth through the war. I had your Boon, and I knew that when I returned, I had a wife waiting for me.”   
Viola glanced at him, and he seemed amused by her shock. 

“You seem surprised... I know that I was common-born, but I'm not about to forsake my vows. I have a pretty bride too. Why would I bed a camp-follower when I will return to you, for you to join my bed instead?”   
He’s as bold as before... Viola tried to hide her blush, but Samuel laughed again. “You needn’t react like that, Viola. You were, after all, the one to invite me in the carriage with you.”

“What?”   
“What do you mean ‘what’? Come now, you can’t be that naïve. My wife inviting me to ride with her in the carriage after my return... pull the curtains closed and try to keep it quiet...” he smirked then, only to watch her reaction. His eyebrows skyrocketed. “You... you didn’t intend to preposition me?”   
“No!” Viola folded her arms and huffed, turning her head away. “I merely... I merely thought that the lord of the manor would ride with his lady, as opposed to with his men.” She cleared her throat

Samuel seemed to think then, before sighing. “Tomorrow, then. I will ride with you tomorrow if you’re so adamant about it.”   
The two went silent then, saying not a word. Viola kept her gaze away too, not wanting to spark his ire or his interest. In truth, Viola felt like she was being snapped this way and that with his moods. Angry one minute, mocking the next, and the net he was thinking of having her. Even before she didn’t know him well, but he had been jovial. Or at least, he had acted jovial during their wedding. Now he was just emotional, and she had to wonder if this was her fault or the fault of war.   
The carriage ride jostled her a little, but she was mostly fine, sat upright and fine, but as the day began to fall to night, the road got rockier, and she was having to brace her hand on the thin walls to keep stable. The trees that surrounded them had gotten thinner too, and the horses that had been riding all around the carriage had now moved to the back and front instead, leaving the sides unguarded. 

Viola’s heart sank, and she gripped the boon tightly, forgetting that it was her own, not Samuel’s. Somehow, her visage carved in wood gave her no comfort, and she longed to feel the carved features of her husband.

She didn’t have much time to think, as out of the corner of her eye she saw something. It was just a glimpse, just a blur of movement that rushed between the trees. She sat up straight, moving closer to the window in the hopes of seeing it again. She caught another glimpse of it, and as she moved to open the door, the caravan ceased all of its movement.

She heard shouting from outside, but she found herself panicking a little. “S-Samuel? What’s going on?” she yelled, finding the panic sinking into her heart, as she reached for the door handle. As she grabbed it, a knight rushed over to slam it closed.   
“My lady,” he began, a dark look in his eyes. “you must remain inside the carriage. You are not safe here.”   
“What do you mean? Is it bandits?” She asked. “What is going on?”   
“We are about to be ambushed... by a pack of goblins.”   
“Goblins?” Viola was shocked before she cried out with mirth. “Goblins! Sir, you are quite funny... goblins are things from fairy tales, are they not?”

The knight’s face showed no amusement, and Viola flinched. “They... they cannot truly be real.” She asked, gripping onto her neck, as though that would protect her.   
“My lady, you must remain inside. Close the curtains, and do not open the door for anyone. Not anyone, do you understand?”   
Viola nodded, and soon the knight had walked off, blade unsheathed as he headed ahead, to discuss the plans with the footmen, as Viola did as bid, pulling the curtains closed to his herself, as she curled up on the seat. Now, the carriage was pitch black, and she could barely make out her hand in the darkness, but she held her tongue and fell silent, worried. 

It would only be a few more seconds until she heard the first sounds of a skirmish, of a bow being nocked and fired, before lodging into something, which gurgled and howled with pain. From that moment, the din of battle was all she could hear, with the clashing of swords, the beating of clubs against shields and armour, and the final cries of death, but she could hardly tell the men apart from the goblins. 

She covered her mouth, horrified at the sickening sloshes and cracks that she heard, from oozing blood and broken bones. All of it was burrowing in her ears, and she reached to cover them. She felt like a child, praying quietly that if she shut her eyes and covered her ears the battle would stop. What a foolish idea. Nevertheless, she tucked her knees to her chest, grasped at her ears and clenched her eyes as tightly closed as she could. 

For a moment, she felt safe, as though lulled by the muffled sound of the battle, as though it were far away and not a few steps away from her.   
But then, she heard a banging on the door, and flinched, pressing her back against the seat as she looked to the door, watching as it shook and dented with the force of the knocks. “Please!” The voice was Samuel’s. Viola perked up, shocked. “Please, let me in!”

She gulped. They had told her not to open the door, but this was her husband begging her to help him. She bit her lip, and after a moment’s wait, the banging continued, and his voice only grew more desperate, begging her to let him in.   
Viola put on a stiff-upper-lip, and reached to pull open the door, only to find it was not Samuel on the other side. 


	9. Dragged into the Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! This chapter is the first to include gory imagery and sexual assault. If you are uncomfortable, I recommend that you stop reading for your own mental health. If you choose to proceed, please keep this warning in mind.

The thing on the other side of the door was not what she had thought a goblin to be. Goblins in her nanny’s tales were short and green, with beak-like noses and bulging eyes, dressed only in a ripped animal-skin loincloth. 

This goblin was tall, and thin like willow for the most part, though the legs and biceps were muscled, proportioned strangely compared to the gauntness of the face and torso. The skin was sinewy too, stretched over the muscle and bones as it towered over her. Her eyes locked with the creature and its eyes were beady as it glared down at her. She soon realised that it had no weapon, but was instead holding a rope in one hand. Upon glancing at the rope, she paled, as she soon saw that not only was it unarmed, it was also unclothed. 

She averted her gaze a moment, as though to preserve its modesty, and she opened her mouth to scream, but the thing lunged at her. It pinned her on the carriage floor with such speed and strength she could hardly believe it. She screamed and shouted for her husband to come for her, but with deftness she had always thought uncharacteristic of the beasts, it fastened her wrists together, and with the same stretch of rope It bound her ankles too, limiting most of her movement. 

Even as she screamed, nobody seemed to hear her, and as the goblin hoisted her onto his shoulder and found herself losing hope. 

_ It captured me... the goblins aren’t supposed to be able to capture the lady! What does this mean? _ Nanny’s stories never said why the goblins stole away fair maidens and ladies of high stature, but somehow, Viola’s mind raced to the worst possibility. 

How could it not? After all, it wore no clothes, and from her glimpses around at the knights fighting them off, none of the creatures did. Half of her wondered if it was for practicality or a fighting tactic to put their enemies off guard. The other half of her was too terrified to think, and it was that side that won out, as she thrashed on the thing’s shoulder, screaming. 

“Viola!” She perked up, looking to the origin of the yell. She couldn’t initially tell who he was; he was in full armour after all, but she soon realised that it was her husband. He had been fighting against two at once, but the distraction of her scream caught him off guard, and the two swiftly subdued him, beating at him with clubs. She hoped his armour would protect him from that.

Viola felt her heart sink. “Samuel!” She screamed, trying to reach her hand out to him, as though to pull him from the dogpile, but at the realisation that they knew she was gone, the goblin carrying her dashed ahead, with many of his peers beating back against the knights who tried to rescue her. 

The thing had slowed his running, and his hand had snaked from her back to rest on her rump and she was sure she’d felt him squeeze. She screamed again, kicking her legs, but the thing didn’t release her, and after a few short turns, something had changed. 

The skirmish was now inaudible, but it had been replaced with grunting and sniffling, and the sound of a large, crackling fire. 

She looked around and soon realised that this was their den, or their village. There were so many of them here, armed and animalistic, and yet as one moved to approach her, the goblin holding her would screech at it, in a guttural tone. It would back away then, as would the others, who separated to make a path. 

The goblin shrugged her off his shoulder, dropping her on her arse on the floor, letting her finally see where she was. Around her were hundreds of them, some armed, some not, but it seemed that they were all shorter than the one who had stolen her. She backed up a little. If he was the largest, that probably meant he was their king. 

She gulped, biting down on her lip, only to find her back slightly singed by the great, burning fire behind her, with flames burning taller than she could ever hope to stand. 

Her heart raced in terror, and she looked around, only to glimpse some odd silhouettes in the darkness. At first, they just looked like fabric, hanging from a branch, but on closer look, Viola shuddered with disgust. They were women. Women hanging by their neck, with something else dangling from between their legs. She narrowed her eyes, thinking it might be a strip of rope, or perhaps their intestines, but it was only a single piece, and short. She  fell aghast when she realised, in fact, that it was their umbilical cord.  _ They... they made them have children? _

She had been distracted too long, and the goblin before her screeched to get her attention, before grabbing her by her hair, its long, sinewy fingers digging into her scalp as he forced her to look at him. He was appraising her, it seemed, those beady, dark eyes running all over her body and her face, as though deciding if he truly wanted her. Every hair on her body stood on end, in disgust.

It seemed his decision was made as he set her down again and looked down upon her. His stature changed from bipedal, to on all fours, as his fists clenched to press his thick knuckles into the dirt, as he began to climb over her, looming like an animal. 

Lit by the fire beside them, Viola could see every detail of its horrifying face, every disgusting pus-filled cyst, the crust in its eyes, and the dark, disgusting colour of its spit, as a string of saliva hung down to her face. For the first time since the carriage, she screamed and writhed beneath him, trying desperately to escape the thing’s grip, but both of its hands had dug themselves at the side of her head, holding her in place, and its leg was pressing between her knees, trying to pry them apart. 

“Please! Stop it, please! Get off of me! Somebody,  _ please help me _ !” Her voice was petrified, growing gravelly with terror as she turned her head away, looking past all of the goblins to the treeline, in the hopes of seeing human feet coming to rescue her. 

She felt its breath on her neck. She felt it forcing her legs apart and upwards, as her many skirts fell to the floor around her, baring her porcelain legs to the cold air. How could she ever face someone again, after this? Ashamed and weak, unable to defend herself and her husband’s right. She shut her eyes and exhaled, simply waiting for it to happen, with tears running down her cheeks. _ I’m sorry _ . She thought. 

The goblin reached its hand to her chest taking hold of her dress’ fabric before tearing it away, along with her shift. She cried out at that, finding one last ounce of fight in her, and she screamed once more for help. 

Her final prayer had been answered, as the goblin on top of her squealed, before rolling over onto his side, off of her at last, and as her eyes opened and she sat up, she saw her husband, crossbow in hand, riding into the clearing. 

“Samuel...” she whispered, smiling weakly for a moment. “You came... for me.” The relief washed over her like a tidal wave, overwhelming her with gladness, and she fell back into the dirt, unconscious. 

When she woke, she found herself bundled up in something warm, still laid where she had been when she collapsed, but as she looked up, she didn't find a goblin looming on top of her, but instead it was her husband, his green eyes boring down into her brown ones. 

"Are you alright?" he asked, quietly, reaching to cup her cheek. "I heard you screaming. Did they do anything to you? Tell me, Viola." There was a haste to his voice, a desperation that she could hardly believe.

She shook her head. "Th-they didn't do anything to me... they just brought me here. They didn't get the chance to..." she trailed off her sentence and tried to look away, but Samuel's tightening grip on her face brought her back to him. "Why did you open the door? Are you a fool or do you have a death-wish?"

His prior gentleness was gone now, and he seemed ripe with anger. "I... I thought it was you. I thought you were calling me for help."    
"Didn't Sir Francis tell you not to open the door for anyone?"   
"I-I know! he did, but I... I was worried. It sounded like you were hurt!"

Samuel didn't reply then, instead letting out a sigh. "Just... be safer, next time. When one of my men tells you something, you listen from now on, do you understand?"

Viola nodded, and he lifted her up into his arms, to carry her back to the carriage. She realised, then, that the blanket she was covered in was his cloak, that he'd used to cover her immodesty, and as he walked her from the den, the goblins were already all dead. She rested her head no his shoulder and sighed. "I'm sorry..."   
"Don't be... you just worried me, that's all." 

Soon, they were back at the caravan, and he placed her gently on the seats of the carriage. "Stay here, alright? And get some rest... I will make sure the carriage is better guarded tomorrow."   
"Alright. Thank you, Samuel." He smiled then and leaned to kiss her on the head. He pulled away and out of the carriage, holding the door. "I'll bring you some new clothes tomorrow... for now just get some sleep, Viola."

With that he was gone, the door shut, as with the curtains, and the men were mounting up to ride again, hopefully, to find somewhere safe to set up camp and rest.

Viola laid across the seats and sighed with relief, before letting herself fall to sleep, praying that she didn't have nightmares about the night's events.


	10. The Final Stretch

As promised, when the morning came, a set of folded clothes –and a shift- was on the floor of the carriage, which was still stationary from the last night’s camp. Viola sat up, pulled off her husband’s cloak and looked to the state of herself. Like this, her breasts were utterly bared, but from the look of the fabric, it could be sewn shut with relative ease. Truthfully, it could be sewn and ornamented and made to look better, with some effort. She could manage that. 

She made sure the curtains were closed, and she swiftly changed into the new clothes, before blushing at the realisation that either Samuel or one of his men had rifled through her clothes and even seen her undergarments. She fought down her shame and after swiftly folding up her ripped clothes, she set them aside and opened the door. 

Around her, the camp was packing up, dousing campfires with water, pulling up tents to pack away, and the moment she stepped out, she was almost knocked by a knight carrying a large bag. “Watch it!” he scolded, before realising. He bowed his head in apology and carried on his way.   
She gulped and searched around, her hair plaited over her shoulder as she searched for her husband amongst his men, dodging those carrying bags of food and sharp objects. She soon found him tying his horse to another, likely so he wouldn’t have to ride it and could instead join her in the carriage, and she hurried to him.   
“Samuel,” she said, and he turned to look at her.   
“Good, you are dressed... I trust it fits well?”   
“yes, thank you... did you pick them out?” she asked.   
“Does that matter? Perhaps you shouldn't know who saw all your lacy undergarments.” Samuel’s eyes narrowed as he looked down at her. “Did you come just to ask me that?”   
Viola steeled herself and stood straight. “No, I... I came to thank you. For rescuing me back there. You stopped them from doing something awful to me. I am forever in your debt.” As she reached to take her skirts and curtsey, he grabbed her by the arm.   
“Stay stood, dammit.” he snapped, his grip tightening on her bicep. “You are thanking me? For saving you? You are my _wife_ , I failed for letting them take you in the first place. So don’t come here to offer me your false thanks.”   
“They are not false!” she protested, enraged. “I came here to thank you because I am grateful. I have only met you once and been at your side for two days, but still, you rescued me.”   
“You were at my side all the way through the war, Viola. As I was with you throughout that year you remained at home... just because I was not present doesn’t mean I was not with you...” he reached to cup her cheek and pull her to look at him. His eyes were so warm as he looked down at her, and Viola found herself smiling up at him. “Do you feel I was not with you?” he asked, his expression not changing from his concern. 

“I... I held your boon every night but... but I did not feel your presence... I didn’t feel your warmth...” she sighed and gulped.   
“I am sorry,” he whispered, running his thumb along her chin. “I will make it up to you, then.” He leaned in, and after a moment, his lips collided with hers, for the first time in a year. Her cheeks flushed as red as a rose, and as his hands reached to rest on her hips, he tugged her closer and forced his tongue between their lips until it was in her mouth, exploring at its whim. Viola gasped and pulled back, but he only stole her lips once more. He only released her once he was satisfied, but when he looked down at her, his expression was an angry one. 

“Why do you pull away from me?”   
“I didn’t expect-”   
“You’re my wife!” he tugged her closer once again. “We have done far more than kiss before. Why pull back from me now?”

Viola gulped and locked eyes with him then, and found she had no answer. She had nothing she could say to placate him, nor any real explanation. Her husband sighed. “Fine,” he said, and he looked as though he would turn away, but he was only fastening his armour to his horse, as a moment later he returned his focus to his wife and swept her onto his shoulder.

“S-Samuel! Put me down!” She screeched, wriggling on him, but he only adjusted her in his grip.   
“Stop wriggling! I’m only carrying you to the carriage.”   
After dropping her on the seat and shutting the door, Samuel placed himself behind her. “Do I disgust you?”   
“No.”   
“Then why are you so averse to my touch? I married you, I rescued you from the goblins... I am bringing you to my home where I can give you everything you could ever want... Why do you not wish me to touch you?” His voice sounded broken as he spoke, and his green eyes bore into her. “I didn’t expect you to love me, Viola... not after all this time apart. But for you to hate me so...”

“I don’t hate you!” She protested. “I... am fond of you. I am! But you are not the same... you’re not the same man at our wedding. You were... excited, and playful. Every day I wrote to you in that diary, thinking of you. But... but when you came back you were cold. And cruel. And different.”   
Samuel’s face tightened, and his jaw clenched. “How could I come home to you the same, Viola? I went to war. I have fought countless battles, won skirmishes... I earned my land by taking it from someone else... but war is different. War is not over and done with after a week or a month. It is toil. It is loss. It is pain. I fought a war and returned to you and found you still at your father’s lands instead of mine, and that my son had died.” His hand moved to her cheek, and it took all of her wills not to flinch. Instead, she simply gazed back into his eyes. “Viola, I want to make you happy. I want to be happy with you. I am sorry I couldn’t return to you as I left you but... perhaps you can come to be as fond of me now, as you were of me then.” 

Viola’s hand reached, before placing it over his heart. “I... I hope so. I hope so, Samuel. I... I want to make you happy too.”   
All her life she was meant to be a bride. Taught languages and dancing to attract a man to her cultured nature. Every hour she had her hair styled, her dresses fitted. Every day she practices posture and poise and how best to speak. All of it was to make her a perfect wife. She had been so sure she would succeed, so excited for the day she’d be a wife, but when the time came to do her duty and bear his son, she failed.   
She hung her head at the memory, and Samuel seemed to sense her sadness, as he draped an arm over her shoulders and tugged her into his embrace, where she finally began to sob apologies into his chest, weeping like a frightened child, and Samuel could do nothing but stroke her hair to soothe her.   
After a while, the carriage began to move, and yet Viola hadn’t stopped her crying. Samuel would usually grow impatient with such behaviour, to snap at her to cease her infernal noise, but when he looked down at his little wife, crying into his clothes, he found himself just as grieved. After all, it was his son as much as hers, and he hadn’t even had the chance to see him or hold him. Softly, he pressed a kiss to her scalp. “It’ll be alright, Viola... I don’t blame you. No man in his right mind would. Our son was not your fault...”

His words pierced her heart, and yet with them came a calm, as though they injected her with serenity. She lulled her head against him, and remained there for the rest of the day’s ride, simply glad to have his presence. 

~~~

Soon, they were out of the forest, and on the road passing through a village, just as the day was turning to night. Samuel gently nudged his wife, and she sat up, furrowing her brow as the carriage stopped. “Where are we?”   
“Just a village. We’re passing through to get some food, then we’re carrying on.” Sam said, smiling down at her. “Carrying on?” Viola seemed concerned. “Don’t the men need rest?”

Samuel turned to her and smiled. “You don’t have to worry. These men are well-practised in staying awake for longer. One night’s sleep can last them 2 full days before they need rest again. We’ll ride through the night, and if we must stop again, then we can rest. We are not so far from my home as you might think.” he leaned to kiss her forehead. “Do you want anything? There are many pretty items here if you want them. Books, too.”   
Viola shook her head. “No, thank you. I’m alright.”   
“Do you want to walk with me then?”   
She was startled by his answer, but there was something so sweet about the way he asked it that she could hardly find it in herself to say no. So instead, she nodded, and after reaching to take his hand she stepped from the carriage and looked around. Further than the forest’s edge was no longer her father’s land, though she also doubted that it belonged to her husband.   
Samuel kept his hold on her hand, as his palms and fingers seemed to swallow hers whole with how large they were, but viola didn’t mind. She lifted the hem of her skirt a little as Samuel began to lead her to the market, as his men slowly carried on riding through, catching the eyes of some of the villagers. Of course, seeing a man with a coat-of-arms emblazoned on his breast and with a large retinue was enough to get the merchant’s mouths afroth with bartering, calling to the Lord to come and buy their stock. One daring woman even flung open the window to hang out of it, calling to the knight to come and taste her services, which from the sight of her in only a nightdress, it was easy to tell what her services were.

Viola stayed close to her husband as he passed the many stalls, stopping only at ones with food, buying what he needed, then moving on. He barely even looked at the woman he was walking with, but even still, Viola felt safe at his side. 

“You there! My lady!” She heard someone call, and after turning her head, she saw a young man at a stall a little across the way, beckoning her over. “Yes, you, my lady! Come!”   
Samuel had noticed by now, and after noticing Viola’s curiosity, he walked them over. “What do you have?”   
“Ah, nothing for you I am afraid, good sir, but I have much to suit the lady.” he grinned, before turning to Viola. “Jewels, gold, silver. Hoods of silk, and even foreign trinkets. I have something perfect for you, my lady.” He then grinned before pulling out what at first appeared to be a pile of beautiful pink silk.   
“What is this?” Viola asked, amazed.   
“How much?” Samuel’s grimace told all.   
“Well, to answer both questions, this is a garment from the far, far west, far across the land and seas to the Moonlit Isles. A garment for women, which is meant to be worn before bed, to charm one’s groom to join them and aid fertility. I bought this one from the Empress herself, one she had worn when she was just a young bride. They have since had 7 children.” He grinned, holding it out to them. “For you, my lord, it will cost only a single gold coin.” 

Viola’s curiosity was piqued, it seemed, as she looked to the garment. If she could believe in the spells of the Husband’s Boon, why couldn’t she believe in the magic of this garment?

Samuel sighed, taking it in hand and handing over the gold piece. “Anything more you want, or are you satisfied with just this?” he asked, holding the thing up to his wife. Viola shook her head.   
“I... I am satisfied,” she whispered. “Thank you.”   
Samuel nodded. “More a gift for me than it is for you anyway, if it is meant to arouse me.” he huffed then, draping the garment over his arm, before taking her hand again to lead her back. “We have the food, and your magic dress... let's get moving again.” The way he said it was laced with such mirth, she found herself beaming at the thought he had returned to himself again, but she realised he was mocking her for believing in such a thing. She turned her head away and stepped into the carriage, which had since stopped on the village outskirts. Once her husband was in too, they carried on their way.

The next morn, Samuel was still in the carriage, awake and alert, as Viola slept, with her head on his lap. She slept through the whole day, and Samuel was uninterested in stopping her. Instead, he ran his fingers through her hair. After 3 days of travel and very little issue, they would arrive at his home by nightfall. He just had to hope that one day, she’d see it as her home too. 


	11. A New Home, A New Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I have taken so long to update! I am set to return to college physically this week so I am quaking in my boots. Hope you enjoy!

“Viola. Viola. Wake up, Viola.” The words cut through the haze of her awakening, and as her eyes flittered open, she saw Samuel leaning over her, what seemed to be a smirk on his face.

“We’re here.” he said, adjusting her to sit up from laying on his lap, then peeling open the red curtain that had blocked out the early morning sun. 

Through the thin glass, her eyes widened in shock at the sight of his land. It was gorgeous. Its outer walls appeared flat and white, with vines and ivy climbing up them. The whole place looked gorgeous. Despite being outer walls, they were beautifully smooth, with watchtowers perfectly spaced, and even the gatehouse was beautiful! Whoever built such a place must have been wealthy.

She gulped and looked to him then. “Samuel, it-!”   
“It’s fine.” He huffed then. “the inside is very impersonal... I hope you will fix it for me... it is nice enough but, well... I had to tear down all the old paintings and tapestries of the old lord.”

 _Fine? How can he see such a beautiful place as just fine?_ Viola was in awe at the sight of it. As Samuel opened the door and stepped out, he offered her his hand. She took it, gently, and stepped from the carriage to stand with him, gazing up at the gates of the city. “Samuel? Why are we leaving the carriage if we’re not at the keep yet?”   
“Because I want them to see you, so you’re going to ride with me. You are their lady, after all. They deserve to see you.” He said, looking down at her, a single finger curling beneath her chin, and he smiled. “You look as beautiful as ever, but I must keep up appearances, and you should change out of the dress you wore when they...” He didn’t need to finish the sentence. She knew what he meant, as this had been the dress she was in when the goblins carried her off. She nodded. “I won’t be long... change and wait here.” His voice left no room for disagreement, so after he walked away and left her be, she swiftly hurried to the back of the carriage to rummage through her clothes before pulling out a beautiful gown, in blue accented with white, to complement the white stallion on the blue stripe of her husband’s coat of arms. For a moment, she hesitated, remembering that it was _her_ coat of arms now too, as she was a Cavell now. She took the dress and a white smock into the carriage, shutting the door and curtains as she changed into it. It wasn’t wrinkled in the slightest, despite being folded up, and it fitted her beautifully. She decided to leave her hair down for the occasion, and put on another set of Samuel’s jewels to hang from her neck and her ears. Sapphires. To match her dress. 

Once certain she looked appropriate to face her husband’s people for the first time, she stepped out to stand beside the carriage, simply waiting for his return. 

“I am glad you are alright, my lady.” The voice shocked her at first, as she hadn’t even noticed someone approaching her, but when her gaze snapped to him, she recognised him at once, from the youthfulness of his face and the curls of his hair that she remembered poking from beneath his helm. He was the knight who had warned her to remain inside. And she hadn’t listened. 

“Sir Francis...” She was thankful to have remembered his name after Samuel reprimanded her. “Thank you. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you before.” Viola hung her head. “You told me to keep the door shut and I... I didn’t listen.”   
“You needn’t apologise... I wasn’t the one facing the consequences.” he smiled then, quite gently, before resting his gauntleted hand on her shoulder. “I am simply glad to see that you are alright, Lady Cavell. In truth, we knights had nothing to do with your rescue. Even if we wished, we were outnumbered. We were stuck with the carriage. It was Lord Cavell who fought and ran off after you into the forest.” He chuckled. “I have never seen him so angry...”   
“He... was really the one to kill them all?”    
“We only got there after the deed was done. We finished off the mortally wounded whilst he guarded you.” Francis shrugged then. “After that, they seemed scared off, so we just carried on moving... Apologies, I am on a tangent.”   
“No, I appreciate you telling me. Thank you, Sir Francis...”

He bowed to her, let go of her shoulder and walked away, just in time for her husband to return, bringing the dark-haired stallion with him. Samuel’s breastplate was strapped on, as were his gauntlets and leg-braces. He was armoured in all but his helm, which was propped on the horn of his saddle. “Are you ready, Viola?”

She nodded, and he stepped close to her a moment, sweeping her into his arms –as he had during their wedding- before placing her on the saddle gently, making her mount side-saddle. As she gripped onto the leather for stability, adjusting to be comfortable, he soon mounted up behind her, his thighs pressed against her rear end to keep her still, as his arms moved around her to take hold of the reins and hold her in place.

Viola’s cheeks flushed, feeling his thighs and chest pressing against her. There was something solid about him that she hadn’t noticed before. Perhaps it was the metal armour, but he felt muscled and firm against her, as though guarding her from every angle.

After a moment of growing comfortable, Samuel dug his heels into his steed, moving to the front of their caravan to lead the men into the city. He would ride at their head not only as their lord, but also their commander. Once he was at the forefront, the men began to ride as well, passing through the gates.

Samuel’s head was held high, so Viola tried to copy him, straightening out her back and lifting her chin. Samuel seemed to approve, as did the people, who had lined the streets to cheer. “Lord Cavell! Lord Cavell!” They chanted for him. “Our hero! Welcome home!”

Viola was quite shocked to find how well liked he was by his people. They cheered for him and his knights, and some even held up kerchiefs and fabrics with his coat of arms –the rearing stallion on red and blue- sewn in, waving them in the air to welcome him home.

She was soon awoken from her reverence when Samuel sharply stopped his steed, as two children ran in front of them. “Milord! Milord! Milady!” The eldest one yelled. She was a girl, barely 10, and clutching her skirts appeared to be a boy half her age. She ran to the side of the steed after stopping the entire caravan, before beaming up at him. “Do you remember me, milord?”

Samuel’s face softened. “Of course I do, sweetling. Little Rose, not so little anymore... and your little brother... now, for what purpose have you stopped my men from heading home?” There was mirth in his tone then, but it seemed strained, as though he was putting on his old persona for them.   
“I have a gift for the lady... and for you sir!” Rose grinned, before pulling two kerchiefs out of her small satchel. Both were sewn with the Cavell crest, and a large, well-done C for their surname, and yet whilst his was undecorated at the edge, fastened only with a running stitch, hers had been decorated with pretty white lace.

Before Samuel could say anything, Viola smiled. “Thank you, Miss Rose... I shall cherish this...” she said, tucking the kerchief in her sleeve.    
Samuel’s smile grew genuine, and he looked over his shoulder. “Francis... They’ve pleased my lady better than I have today... they have earned a ride.”   
Francis seemed to know, and rode up closer. “Come then, young ones... I will go as fast as my mare can manage.”   
“But we wanted to ride with Lord Cavell!” The young boy whined, only to be scolded by his sister.    
“Don’t be silly, his lady is riding with him!”

Viola smiled. “Next time, I will leave the saddle open for you both.” She said, setting a bright smile on both of the children’s faces, as they took Francis’ hand to mount up. He looked to a woman in the crowd and nodded. “I’ll have them home soon, Mag.” He said, before swiftly racing off into the winding streets, as the children cheered. 

Samuel let out a low, manly chuckle, one that sent a shiver down her spine as he began to ride again, leaning into her ear a little.    
“You did well, for a woman who hasn’t been here before... I am sure you will carve your own place in their hearts.” he pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek, before returning his stature to straight and tall, and kept riding, paying no mind to the red flush of his wife’s cheeks.

Soon enough their little parade was over, and Samuel dismounted from his steed, looking up to his wife. “I wish I could have done this a year ago, but I suppose better late than never.” He smiled, and before she could make a move to slip from the saddle, he had lifted her into his arms, carrying her like a princess. “Groomsman! Take my horse and pamper him. He has earned it.” he ordered over his shoulder, as he then carried his wife across the threshold of his home. 

“Welcome, Lady Cavell... to Ulmhaus.”


	12. The Elm House

Viola gazed around herself, shocked to find that this beautiful place was her home. Her eyes widened a fraction, and she sucked in her lower lip. “ Its so beautiful...” she whispered.

The walls were stone, lined with wood panelling down the corridors she could see, and with beautiful, thick windows. But he had been right before; it was certainly impersonal. No portraits, no tapestries, no curtains or rugs. She would have her work cut out here, though she supposed that could wait a while.

“It’s fine... it is a place to live, where we’re safe...” He set her down then, clasping his hand on her shoulder, seemingly proud of her. “You did well, back in the city.”   
“What do you mean? I just did what I thought was best.” She was confused as to what exactly he was referring to   
“You reacted well...” he said, slowly. He then sighed. “but that’s because you didn’t realise, did you?”   
Viola’s brow furrowed. “Didn’t realise what?”   
“The boy... he was mine.”

Viola felt her heart sink. “Wh... what?”   
“The boy... Robb. He’s my son.” Samuel pressed his lips into a line. “Rose is not, but she treats me like a father... or a big brother.” He then sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Fuck, I just shouldn’t have said anything.”   
Viola found herself deeply wounded. Her husband had a bastard son, living in the town outside his home, and the two knew each other. That woman –Mag- had given him a living son, whilst she couldn’t manage it. His wife couldn’t manage what his mistress had, and it saddened her deeply. She found herself more than upset and betrayed, but _guilty_ knowing that she had failed him. That shame cut deeper than any anger at him ever could.

Yet, she was in no mood to pout, so she placed a hand on his arm, gently. “You do not need to be ashamed... you were unwed... I am not surprised you sought comfort... nor that you acknowledge the boy... I... I must ask you, though... do... do you still see her? For pleasure?”

“No,” Samuel sighed. “I stopped seeing her once I knew I was to marry you... but I want you to know this; I won’t abandon my son... bastard or not, he is mine.”   
“I understand... I won’t make you abandon him... he is as much your son as... as Alder was...” She hung her head then, and Samuel’s hands reached swiftly to cup her cheeks, forcing her to look at him. “We will have other sons... and daughters... I don’t want to push you so soon after our loss but... I know we will do what is expected of us.” His hand gently tangled in her hair then, gazing down at her. His tone changed, and he sighed. “I don’t know how...”   
“Don’t know how what?” Viola pressed, biting her lip a little, hopeful that he might say something poetic, or cheeky as he may have on their wedding.    
“I don’t know how I got out of that bed. With you lying next to me –my wife- carrying my son... I don’t know how I had the strength to stand up and leave you there... but I damn well know I won’t do it again.”

It was perhaps the sweetest thing any man had ever said to her, and as his hand tightened in her hair, her body moved of its own accord to press her lips to his. His touch grew feverish, and he released her face and hair, only for his hands to reach to her thighs, before pulling them until her legs were wrapped around his middle. Viola gasped, but Samuel was unwilling to cease his devouring of her lips, as he simply carried her up the stairs with her legs around his hips. It would take a while, as every so often he would stop to press her to the wall and buck her upwards to hold her up properly and keep her from slipping, but she could feel the anticipation burning in his groin with each buck, and she grew increasingly impatient herself. They had been united as one body only once, and she’d grown with child from it. Perhaps if they could unite again, she could win back his love and favour by having another of his sons. Even besides that desire to earn his love again, there was a certain part of her that ached to simply feel him against her again, as nothing in the world had ever felt as perfect as that night they shared together.

Soon enough, he had pushed open the door to their chambers, though she didn’t get much time to take in the scenery, as in moments he had laid her on the bed, with him hovering above her, fingers reaching to pull up her many layers of skirt, to splay them about her hips. Once that was done, he took in the look of her, before taking hold of her hips to hold her down into the bed, eliciting a sweet gasp of delight from his wife.

“Viola...” he murmured; his voice hot with want. It was more like a growl than real speech. In an instant, his hands were trailing up her legs. “Viola... I have missed this.”

His face was buried in her neck, as he knelt above her, his knees pressing her thighs apart. Viola was almost reminded of those awful goblins, but then she felt it. The wetness at her neck. His lust was gone, replaced with such delicacy, as he simply leaned over her and wrapped his arms around her. 

“I have missed you... coming home to you was all I dreamed about for... for all that time. You... You grew even more beautiful whilst I was gone, and look what I became?”

He pulled back then, until he was no longer a shadow over her, his palms buried into his eyes as though to stifle his tears. “I came home to you a monster... Our own son died and I couldn’t... I couldn’t do a thing to comfort you! I couldn’t comfort my own damn wife!” 

He punched then, his fist hitting against one of the bedposts, making the entire bed shake with his rage. Viola sat up, her eyes widening as she put her hands to his chest. “Samuel, you-”   
“No... no, I can’t.” he said, stepping from the bed, staggering back from her, until his back was braced against the wall. “I... I can’t listen to you soothing me... not after what I said to you. Not after how I treated you.”

In an instant, he had left, slamming the door after himself, leaving her entirely alone, and confused. 


End file.
